


Te Amo - A Spamano Fan-Fic

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3615855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending a day with Spain, Romano realises that he might have feelings for the green-eyed nation. Of course, France and Prussia see this as an opportunity to get them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Himaruya-san does.

"Hey, tomato bastard!" Spain turned to see Romano heading towards him, an evil smile on his face.

"What is it, mi tomatito?" Seeing Romano always lifted Spain's spirits.

"Don't call me that! I just came here to remind you about our game day."

"Ah, si, si. So that I can beat you again, right?" Spain smiled as Romano's smile faltered, his face turning red as a tomato at the memory of epically failing at one of their video game sessions.

". . .I wasn't feeling good, that's all! Plus, I don't even like Super Smash Bros, it's stupid! This time I won't lose though, jerk! I swear, there won’t be enough of you left for your bastard friends to clean up when I win!" His smirk returning, Romano turned on his heel and started to walk away, but not before being hugged from behind.

"Do I get a reward if I win this time, Lovi?" Spain's breath was hot as he whispered in his ear. Romano gulped and squirmed out of his grasp, flustered.

". . . Stupid bastard."

***

_The world meeting is seriously boring today_ , Spain thought as he doodled tomatoes onto his paperwork. Really, even though he didn’t mind the fact that he was in Rome, there were better things he could be doing, like kissing his Lovi, with his big brown eyes staring at him lovingly. . .

“Hey, are you okay?” Spain snapped out of his daydream as Prussia prodded him with a pen, France right behind. He sighed.

“I’m fine, just thinking.”

“About what?” Prussia was talking a bit too loudly, causing a few countries to look up at them. England in particular scowled at them, but looked away quickly after France winked at him. What France saw in that bushy-browed, bad-tempered nation, Spain would never know. Not that he could say much about bad-tempered nations, after falling for Romano. Besides, didn’t England like America?

“He is obviously thinking about his precious Lovino, Gilbert,” France said, answering for him. He neared Spain, lowering his voice. “So what are you planning for your date?”

“Francis, it isn’t a date. We are only hanging out and playing a few games.”

“Of, course, mon ami, but are those his words, or yours? I know you don’t think that.” Sighing again, Spain looked over at Romano, who was busy arguing with Germany about whether or not he could be with his younger brother, Veneziano. Germany looked rather embarrassed at the conversation while Romano’s brother flitted between both nations, wondering why they had to fight and if they could get pasta afterwards. Romano wouldn’t back down, even when Germany called out that the meeting was adjourned for a ten minute break. Spain really did love that adorable, foul-mouthed nation. France saw the way he looked at the younger country and smiled, proving that he was right. “Have fun on your date, Antonio.”

**  
**As soon as the meeting was over, Spain sidled over to Romano with a smile so bright the Sun paled in comparison.

“Are you ready to go, Lovi?”

 “Yeah, just wait a minute,” he grumbled, organizing whatever papers he had used during the meeting. Once he was ready, he looked up at Spain. “Okay, let’s go.” Just before he exited, Spain saw Prussia grinning and giving him a thumbs up and France winking playfully at him. He smiled and was about to give a wave when Romano pulled him through the door impatiently.

“C’mon, bastard. You’re driving, remember?”

 

A.N. Spamano is one of my favorite ships, so I had to write this. Hope you like it! BTW, Romano is the only one that really calls Antonio Spain when they talk, because I think it's cuter, and I can't see him calling Spain Toni or Antonio. (^-^)


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two, enjoy!!

"Can't your car go any faster?" Romano complained for the tenth time. Even for the always cheerful country, he could tell that Spain's patience was wearing thin.  
"Lovi, I don't have a Ferrari like yours. Anyway, we're almost there." Before he had even parked completely, Romano pushed open the car door and started down the path to Spain's house.  
"Lovi, wait up!"  
"You take too fucking long." Romano kicked down the front door, making it the fifth one Spain had to replace this month. Spain sighed as the younger nation grabbed a juicy red tomato and threw himself onto the couch.  
“So what are we playing, bastard?” Romano said with a look of indifference. Spain smiled.  
“Well, I couldn't really find anything that you liked, so I just went ahead and got this game!” He held up a game that made Romano drop his tomato in shock.  
“. . . You got . . . Mario Kart?! What the hell, Spain!” Romano screeched loud enough to burst Spain’s eardrums.  
“I didn’t really see anything better, and it seemed fun . . .”  
“This game is for five year olds, and it’s stupid! I'm not playing it.” Romano crossed his arms angrily. Spain’s smile slipped off his face, until he thought of something that would get him to play.  
“Hey, Lovino, I thought you wanted to see me lose.” Romano mumbled something quietly.  
“What?”  
“ . . . I said I don’t want to play this stupid game. Put on something else, idiot.” Spain frowned, but a grin came onto his face. As Romano watched him warily, he got on the couch where Romano was sitting, leaning in close. The Italian turned red, but the Spaniard seemed oblivious to his discomfort.  
“W-what are you doing, bastard?”  
Spain pouted. “I thought it didn’t matter what game we played, you still wanted to beat me. I guess you were just lying to me.”  
“Who said I was lying? I just don’t want to play this game.”  
“Well, it’s the only game I got, so if you won’t play I guess it’s forfeit. I win--”  
“Hold it, bastard!” Romano said angrily. “You didn’t win anything! I’ll play the game, but just so you lose. I won’t enjoy it!” With that, Spain tackled Romano with a hug. “Let go of me, jerk!”  
“Yay! I’ll start up the game.” Just as quickly as he had hugged Romano, he let go, which left the Italian feeling somewhat lonely--no, not lonely, just cold. Where did he keep the stupid blankets, anyway?  
***  
“So what character do you want to be, Lovi?”  
“I’ll be the red one.”  
“Cool. I’ll be the green one, then.” The Spaniard selected Yoshi as Romano picked Mario. It’s not because Spain always calls me his tomatito, which I hate anyways, he thought. It’s just because I like tomatoes and I like the colour. As they reached the first track, Spain fell right into a canyon that could easily have been avoided, and ended up in last place. Idiot, he thought as the older country laughed. Why the hell is he laughing? He’s going to lose for sure. His train of thought diverting from the game, and he got last place on the second track. He growled as Spain told him that he had better pay more attention to the game. Which was kind of hard. Spain was sitting right next to him, his smile lighting up the room every time he won. Romano would love to run his hands through his soft brown hair, kiss him--what? Why was he thinking that? It was all that tomato bastard’s fault.  
“Stop distracting me, jerk,” he said to the older nation.  
“Lovi, I didn’t do anything.”  
“Shut up and focus on the game.” After a while, he was actually getting the hang of it, avoiding lava and carnivorous plants and hitting anything that crossed his path with green and red shells. It was kind of fun, not that he would admit it. Soon enough, he was at the last track. Spain had fallen into lava and placed eighth. He himself was in seventh place, but was close to beating him in terms of points. He grinned, slowly climbing up to first place, when he looked over at Spain.  
“Mierda.” Spain looked disappointed, his emerald eyes dulled as he saw he had a very good chance of losing. That was all Romano needed to distract him, and he slipped on a banana peel in front of his cart, which slowed him enough that Spain passed him to earn second place.  
“Dammit!” Romano glared at Spain, who was now dancing around the room, ten points ahead of him. He had won the game. The Italian shrugged on his coat and started to head out the door, having lost again, when he heard Spain’s voice.  
“Lovi, where are you going?” Romano turned around.  
“I'm leaving, stupid Spain.”  
“Don’t I get a reward?” Romano glowered, irritated at the jerk for winning yet again. Still, it wasn't like he could say no, that would result in Spain begging at his feet like the moron that he was.  
“ . . . Fine, bastard. What kind of prize do you want?”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. Another chapter, loves! Enjoy!

Spain thought for a moment. He hadn’t expected Romano to give up so soon. He wondered if asking for a kiss would be too much, and thinking it probably was, settled on a hug.

“Romano, for my reward I want a hug from you.”

Romano snorted, crossing his arms. “You seriously are an idiot.”

“Please Romano? That’s all I’ll ask for.” Spain saw hesitation in Romano’s eyes, replaced by annoyance.

"No, idiot bastard.” He opened the door to leave, cursing. He was startled as the Spaniard grabbed his wrist and pulled him close, against his will.

"What--what the fuck are you doing?"

"Getting a hug from my Lovi," Spain said as he held Romano, who was struggling quite a bit.

"I'm not your anything!" He hissed as he tried pulling away. There was only so long Spain could hold on to the wriggling country, and in one last desperate attempt, he threw himself after Romano as he freed himself.

Unfortunately, Spain lost his balance and crashed into the Italian, sending them both to the floor in a heap.

"Hell..." Romano groaned. Spain shook his head to clear the dizziness, failing to notice the position they were in. However, Romano noticed entirely, turning as red as the tomatoes he loved. He started stuttering, and the Spaniard looked at him, laughing.

“Lovi’s a tomato again!” He laughed as Romano tried to push him off.

“B-bastard! Get off of me! I swear, if you don’t I’ll murder your fucking turtles--” It was only then that Spain saw his opportunity, seeing the Italian so close. He started to lean in, like before, and their foreheads touched. Romano was blushing even more, but suddenly stopped fighting to break free and quieted, seeing the look on his former boss’ face. Spain’s eyes were heavy-lidded and his lips neared Romano’s, who froze on the spot.

D-damn . . . is he actually going to . . . no, he wouldn’t. I wouldn't mind if he did, though . . . shit, I didn’t just think that. Romano’s head was spinning, and, lips almost touching, Spain whispered, “¿Me dejas besar te? Me encantas, Lovino.”

Romano started at his words, and he opened his mouth to reply, when they heard a door slam open. Both jumped, and were met with a cheerful: “Bonjour, mes amis!” as France strode in.

“Oh, are you busy?” The french nation observed the two nations on the floor with an amused face. Spain turned away from Romano to see his friend, and Romano took the opportunity to get up and away from the older nation, causing Spain to frown. France smiled as Spain walked over to him wearing a mask of slight disappointment.

“France,” Spain said quietly, “You knew we were both here, why act surprised?”

France smiled slyly. “Toni, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned his head and saw Romano sitting on the couch with a pout on his face.

“Lovino, I didn’t see you there! How are you, cher?”

“Leave me alone,” he spat. “I didn’t think I would have to deal with this many idiots today. I’m going home.” He slammed open the door, exiting Spain’s house.

“Wait, Lovi!” Spain raced to the door, but Romano had already gone. France leaned against the counter, smirking. Spain whirled on him.

“Francis, why did you do that?”

“Toni, it’s fun to watch you struggle a bit. Besides that, me and Gilbert want to go drinking tonight, and we thought you should come.”

“That’s all you came over here for?!” Spain slammed his head against the counter.

“I was so close . . .”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” France grabbed Spain’s arm and pulled him unwillingly to his car.

***

Romano stomped through his house, barely noticing that Veneziano was trying to talk to him. When did that tomato bastard start to think that it was okay to kiss him? Not that he had, but he had gotten pretty damned close. He ran a hand through his hair and fiddled with the lock to his house, kicking the door when it didn't open right away. And to make things worse, his bastard friend had walked in on them, stopping Spain from kissing him. Which he hadn’t wanted to happen anyway. Stupid France. Stupid Spain. All this thinking gave him a headache.

“--and I really think we should have pasta for dinner, right Romano?” His younger brother hadn’t shut up the entire time he had been thinking.

“Do whatever you want, idiot. Just don’t talk to me.” He brushed past Veneziano, who saddened. He was too damn happy all the time, anyway. Romano rushed to his room and slammed the door.

“Stupid jerk bastard.” He sank to the floor, cradling his head in his hands. God, he confused him so much. It was all his fault he was feeling like this, lost, angry, and an emotion he thought he had felt earlier. Cold? No, it was eighty degrees outside, and he had just turned the air conditioner on. It was . . . loneliness. But that was impossible. He wasn’t lonely, he had . . . okay, he didn’t have anyone, but that was by choice, wasn’t it? He didn’t need anyone, they just held him back.

His eyes settled on a stuffed tomato plushie Spain had given him a couple years back for Christmas. They had all gone to the mall, him, his brother, and Spain and his bastard friends. Spain had seen him eyeing it and, as a surprise, had given it to him Christmas morning. Romano had told him he was going to toss it in the trash, but had actually kept it. Now, he reached for the tomato and wrapped his arms around it. It still smelled like that bastard. He breathed in the scent, but only because it smelled good, not because he liked that jerk at all. And he had something in his eyes, like dust. That was why there were tears in them, not for any other reason. He would show that bastard not to play with his feelings.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gods, I forgot to finish posting the rest of the chapters. Tbh, I'm not in this fandom anymore, but I'll probably post the rest eventually. Anyways, enjoy! ^¬^

“Toni, watch this!” Prussia chugged five bottles of beer in one breath, and cackled madly when he finished. “I am so awesome!”

“Yeah . . . the greatest, Gil,” Spain said half-heartedly, resting his head on the table. France had disappeared long ago, probably off to dance with the giggling women that had melted with a charming smile he had given them. Not that it mattered. He didn’t feel much like talking to his friend, especially after barging and interrupting him and Romano.

“Pshh, you are being so unawesome right now. Isn’t he, Gilbird?” The chick hidden in his hair chirped happily.

“Sorry, Gilbert. I’m . . . just not feeling good. Maybe I’m sick or something," he said to cover up what was really bringing him down.

“Oui, lovesick.” France had returned and had sat down next to Spain, holding slips of paper he presumed to be phone numbers. “I stopped him and Lovino from kissing.”

“Kesesese! That’s hilarious!” Prussia laughed out loud. Spain glared daggers at him, and he shut up, focusing intently on Gilbird, who was hopping around like a spaz, having consumed a bit of his owner’s drink. 

“Need I remind you that you still haven’t made a move on mon petit Mathieu, Gilbert?” France gave Prussia a withering look as he mentioned the Canadian the albino liked.

“Shut up, Francis.” The Prussian chugged down another drink.

“Antonio, don’t worry. Did Lovino seem like he didn’t enjoy being with you?”

“Well, at first, but he didn’t really pull away when I was about to kiss him . . .”

“See? You’ll get another chance, mon ami.” Spain brightened considerably at this.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll see Lovi at the next meeting, and I’ll talk to him.” The Frenchman almost laughed at how excited his friend had become within seconds, like a puppy.

“Do you need any help with him, Toni?” France said, more than a bit suggestively. The green-eyed nation beamed at him.

“Not a chance!” Prussia tried to give advice, but Spain ignored him with a small laugh. “I’ll do this myself. And, oh,” he said, giving his friends glares that revealed a part of him they never wanted to see again, a part of him they hasn't seen for so long they had almost forgotten he had a dark side.

“If you interrupt me and Romano again, you’ll think Russia was as sweet and innocent as Lichtenstein compared to me.” He directed this part to the blonde next to him. He knew exactly what he meant.

"I'll be back, just have to get some air," France said with a gulp. He hastily got up, pushing through people and bumping into someone familiar.

"Ah! I'm sorry-Francis?" Canada blinked at the Frenchman through his glasses.

"Mathieu, how wonderful to see you again!"

"Yeah...oh, I was wondering if maybe Gilbert was here. He invited me, but I can't find him."

"Did I hear someone say the awesome me's name?" Prussia parted the sea of people like a god to find France and Canada.

"Oh, Birdie! You came!" Canada blushed slightly at the nickname he had been given.

"Hi, Gilbert. Thanks for inviting me." The Canadian's voice was barely audible over the music. Prussia slung his arm over his shoulders, grinning. He steered Canada away from France and over to the table towards Spain, who was cheerful once more, day dreaming about Romano. The albino snapped him out of his stupor with a shake of his shoulder.

"Hey, Toni, Matt is gonna sit with us, okay?" Spain stared blankly.

"Who?"

“Matthew, dummkopf. At least try to remember the name of the person almost as awesome as me!” Prussia frowned when he saw Canada’s disappointed appearance.

“It’s okay, Gil. I’m used to it.”

“Tch, no, Spain’s just being an oblivious idiot.” The Prussian sat down next to his friends and grabbed another bottle.

“I’m sorry.” Spain said with an apologetic smile. “I keep forgetting your name.” Canada sighed. He’d never heard that before.

“Wait, do you guys hear that?” Prussia had lifted his head to listen to what sounded like screeching tires. Spain and Canada also listened. The doors to the bar suddenly swung open and a very familiar Italian walked in.

“Lovi!” Spain got up to greet him and was met with a punch in the arm.

“Shut up, bastard. I’m still mad about earlier, but I couldn’t stay at home, so I came here. Too bad I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Why couldn’t you stay at home?” Romano rolled his eyes.

“Veneziano invited the stupid potato bastard over, so I had to leave. There was no way I was staying there.”

“Well, come sit over here with us!” Romano eyed the table with distaste, but chose a seat next to Canada and across from Spain.

“Did they drag you here?” The Italian asked Canada. The blonde shook his head.

“No, I was invited,” he said with a glance at Prussia. Romano was surprised. He thought the Prussian only thought about himself. Hmm . . .

“Lovi, I’m sorry for what happened, it wasn’t my fault . . .” The Spaniard was apologizing, but Romano wasn’t taking his B.S.

“You know it was your fault, bastard. Your’s and Francis’. Don’t lie.” Spain handed him a drink, which he took grudgingly. There was a tense silence in which Canada lowered his eyes in discomfort and Prussia tapped the table, bored. It wasn’t long until he voiced his thoughts.

“I’m freaking bored. Matt, let’s go dance.” He grabbed the other’s hand and pulled him onto the dance floor, leaving Spain and Romano alone. The latter looked pointedly away from Spain.

“Lovi, I--”

“I need to stay at your place for the night.” The Spaniard was shocked.

“W-what?”

“Not like that,” Romano said hurriedly. “I just need a place to stay since I don’t know how long the potato bastard’s gonna be at our place. Idiot.” Spain’s heart was fluttering a bit. Romano hadn’t stayed the night since he was a much younger country, and still living with him.

“Of course, mi tomatito.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :)

“An’ then me an’ Mattie bumped right into this one dude, he fell to the ground, but it di’n’t matter, it was cool . . .” Prussia was rambling on and on in the backseat, next to Canada and France. France was drunk too, murmuring things in French that Canada would rather not have repeated. Romano was riding shotgun, next to Spain, the only one who was able to drive at the moment, since Canada was rather disoriented at the moment and everyone else had been drinking. Besides, he should be able to drive his own car.

“Damn, I shouldn’t have been drinking. Now I can’t use my car.” Romano pouted. He had called Veneziano to pick up his Ferrari, but later complained, saying that he would end up crashing it. His feet were propped up against the dashboard, and he reclined in the seat.

“Lovino, that isn’t safe . . .”

“To hell with what’s safe. I’ll sit how I want.” The Italian looked back in his seat, seeing a faint outline of a country. He focused, and slowly Canada came into view.

“Antonio, could you drop us off at the airport? Gilbert is staying with me for the weekend. I doubt his brother would be happy to see him like this.” The quiet nation said.

“Sure . . .um . . .” Spain bit his lip.

“Matthew.”

“Yeah. We’re headed in that direction anyway. “I’ll have to drop Francis off, first, though.” The Spanish country turned onto a highway, the lights of the passing cars almost blinding.

“Tonniii~” France wrapped his arms around the driver from behind, wasted as hell. Romano gave what sounded like a hiss, and he punched the French nation away from Spain. He was already in a position he didn’t want to be in; he didn’t need the frog bastard ruining his night any more. Spain gave a slight chuckle, but he ignored him. They all drove in silence on the way to France’s house, save Prussia, who hadn’t shut up. Spain dragged his friend inside while the rest waited, and Canada broke the almost silence.

“Lovino, do you like Antonio?” Romano whirled around, face burning in surprise and embarrassment.

“What?! Of course I don’t! He’s an annoying bastard!” Canada winced.

“Sorry if I upset you, I was just wondering--”

“Well, stop wondering!” Romano turned back around, slumping in his seat. Like hell he liked that jerk bastard. Said bastard returned a few seconds later.

“Okay, we can go to the airport now . . . is something wrong?” Spain sighed when both Canada and Romano didn’t answer. What happened now? Only when Canada and Prussia had been dropped off did he ask.

“Lovi, what’s wrong?” Romano still didn’t answer, so he roughly parked the car on the side of the road, throwing the Italian off guard.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” The nation yelled as he rubbed his head, which had hit the window. Spain grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Lovino, tell me what’s wrong.” For a few seconds it looked as though Romano would comply, but he started to pull away instead. Why did he have to be so difficult? He was just trying to help! Spain wasn’t about to let go as easily this time. He had been distracted earlier, but it wouldn’t happen again. He impulsively pressed his lips against the Italian’s, who stiffened, unable to process what was happening. Spain paused, unsure if he should continue, since it seemed he had given Romano a heart attack. Then, ever so slightly, he allowed the Spanish country entrance. Spain eagerly kissed him, exploring every corner of his mouth, and Romano was actually starting to enjoy himself. He snapped out of it.

What the hell am I doing? I shouldn’t be making it easy for him! Romano started fighting for dominance against the older nation, who wasn’t about to give up so easily, deepening the kiss. He tangled his fingers in the Italian’s hair, pulling him closer, to which Romano obliged, wrapping his arms around Spain’s waist. Romano pushed the Spaniard down, smashing their lips together and winning control over him. Spain didn’t mind too much. He absentmindedly pet Romano’s hair, running his hands through it. When he accidentally touched his curl, Romano gave a little moan, practically melting into Spain’s arms, who had no idea what he had done. Romano mentally cursed him for that, but said nothing out loud. It startled them both when one of them bumped into the car horn, shattering the silence, and they separated, gasping for air. 

“What was that for, Spain?” Romano finally asked when they had caught their breath, straightening himself and sitting back in his seat, one eyebrow raised and a slight blush on his face. Spain sweat-dropped, confused.

“What, the kiss? I thought you liked it.” He smiled when Romano scowled.

“So what if I did? I never said you could kiss me, bastard. C’mon, just start driving already.” Romano said, every ounce of romance gone. Spain started the engine up, and they drove to Spain’s house, Romano gazing out the window with an occasional curse and Spain paying more attention to the Italian than the road. Needless to say, they almost crashed a few times. 

“We could’ve died out there,” the younger nation said, staggering out of the car. Spain nearly fell out once he unbuckled.

“Lo siento, Lovi. I was distracted.”

“No, really? I couldn’t tell. Next time actually focus on the road.” He walked into the house, and sat on the couch. This was his second time here today. He hoped it didn’t become a normal thing.

“Hey, Lovi, do you want to watch a movie?”


End file.
